


Grasping the Concept

by shaenie



Category: LOTR RPS
Genre: M/M, kilt kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-05-06
Updated: 2003-05-06
Packaged: 2017-10-12 05:16:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/121197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shaenie/pseuds/shaenie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Elijah says 'jeez' and awful lot</p>
            </blockquote>





	Grasping the Concept

**Author's Note:**

> For kate, who wanted billijah kink, wimpertugpush

Elijah had come over to tease Billy for ditching him the night before. He hadn't intended it to be anything serious, just good natured ribbing, but Billy had answered the door wearing a kilt and a pair of white athletic socks, and it had all sort of gone downhill from there.

Or uphill. It was entirely a matter of perspective, Elijah was pretty sure.

Right now, they seemed to be on pretty even footing, however. At least, the surface of the kitchen table was even, and they were on it (although not on their feet).

"What exactly," Billy panted, his mouth moving against Elijah's mouth during a convenient breathing break, "is this all about, 'Lijah?"

It was a little too complicated in Elijah's own mind for him to really want to discuss it at the moment, so he bit down on Billy's lip, and Billy's fingers clamped down on Elijah's hips, reflexive, but unnervingly hard, probably hard enough to bruise.

"You're going to bruise me," Elijah muttered, and shifted slightly so that he was sitting astride Billy a bit more comfortably (as in, Billy's erection was jabbing him less pressingly).

"You started it," Billy objected, indignant. "You came in, you gave me some sort of... of _look,_ you pinned me to my own kitchen table, and you're objecting about a few bruises?"

"I didn't give you a _look_!" Elijah scoffed (of course, he probably had, though it hadn't been deliberate), and when it looked like Billy was going to disagree, he bent and lapped at Billy's right nipple. As a distraction technique, it had potential.

Billy let out a moan that was nearly a yelp, and -- _clench_ \-- his fingers went to work bruising Elijah's hips again.

"Ow, Billy, jeez! Quit it!"

"Christ, Elijah, what the fuck?" Billy jerked his hands off of Elijah's hips. He used one hand to further muss his hair (it was now even more delightfully tousled than it had been when Billy had opened the door in nothing but a kilt and socks), and waved the other one beside their heads in a kind of helplessly confused gesture. Elijah didn't say anything, as he was contemplating the possibilities of Billy's left nipple as a distraction, and taking in the expanse of naked chest under his hands as a kind of bonus. He tweaked the left nipple (Billy's breath hitched slightly), and watched it firm with unexpected and utter fascination. He was reaching to do it again, but Billy intercepted his wrist. "Elijah," he said, and waited for Elijah to actually raise his eyes from Billy's chest to his face. "Just hang on a minute. Forgive me if I'm very slightly confused. Before about three and a half minutes ago, you had never so much as kissed me. What in God's name are you on about?"

Instead of answering, Elijah asked: "Are you a top or a bottom?"

Billy just stared at him, apparently speechless. Finally, he managed to sputter out: "You've never even asked if I'm gay, and you want to know if I prefer to give it or take it? A little personal, don't you think?"

"Billy," Elijah said patiently, and sat all the way up, resting his weight firmly atop Billy's groin. He didn't press or even wiggle, but Billy made a choked little sound anyhow, and Elijah smiled a little. "I'm sitting on top of you on your kitchen table. You're half naked, and you're either hard, or you're hiding a dildo under your kilt. The way I see it, either option makes any and all questions fair game. Furthermore, I have now kissed you, played with your nipples, and given you an erection -- or there's the dildo school of thought, but either way, whatever your preferences, I'm getting the distinct impression that you're up for it. Correct me if I'm wrong, by all means."

Billy raked the fingers of both hands through his hair this time. "All right, okay," he said, and then didn't seem to know what else he wanted to say for a few seconds. "Just give me a minute to adjust. I wasn't expecting..." he waved his hands around vaguely, "this, whatever this is. I... What the hell brought this on, then?"

"Can't this wait until after?" Elijah asked hopefully.

"No!" Billy exclaimed, and glared at him. "No, Elijah, it cannot wait until after. It must definitely be discussed _before_!"

"It's a bit late to discuss it before," Elijah grumbled, but held up both hands in a placating gesture when Billy took a deep breath that looked like it had the potential to become a shout. "All right, jeez." He sighed. "I think it's the kilt."

Billy looked at him. "You think it's the kilt," he repeated, as though he wasn't quite grasping the concept.

"Yeah," Elijah said, and slid backward off of Billy's lap and onto the floor. He stood there for a minute, looking at Billy. "The kilt. The kilt with no shirt, maybe." He let his eyes roam from Billy's pristine white socks, naked calves, knees just peeking out from beneath the hem of Billy's blue kilt. "Yeah," he said again. Billy sat up, and Elijah just watched him, watched the skin of his abdomen wrinkle into little folds (inexplicably, Elijah wanted to run his tongue over those little folds of skin). Billy rubbed the back of his neck with one hand, and the muscles of his chest shifted with the motion. Elijah made some sort of sound, and Billy went still, hand still resting on the back of his neck.

"You have a kilt kink?" Billy asked when Elijah looked at his face, and he was smiling a little now, almost smirking. When Elijah didn't answer, he leaned back on his elbows, and Elijah could feel Billy watching him as Elijah stared.

Elijah stepped forward and pushed the bottom edge of the kilt up, bunching the heavy fabric in his fingers until it rested about halfway up Billy's thighs. "Yeah," he said finally. "Kilt kink." He glanced at Billy, and Billy was just watching him, his gaze flickering between Elijah's hands and Elijah's face. He wasn't smiling anymore.

Elijah brushed his fingertips along the skin of Billy's newly exposed thighs and felt the fabric of the kilt brushing against the backs of his hands. He felt himself shiver a little, and okay, maybe it was slightly weird, but that didn't change anything. _Kilt kink_ , he thought, and shivered again.

"D'you want to wear it, Elijah?" Billy asked, and his voice was deep and thoughtful.

"No. I want _you_ to wear it." And that was absolutely true, but didn't stop the little shiver at the _idea_ of wearing a kilt, either. Maybe Billy was a mind reader.

"I have another," he said simply, though his voice was very definitely hoarse now, and how this had progressed from Elijah fully intending some relatively uncomplicated kitchen-table sex to the point where Elijah could feel Billy's voice on his skin like tiny, whispering caresses, Elijah had no idea.

"Yeah," Elijah said, hearing himself say the word before he had been aware that he was going to.

Billy slid off the edge of the table, the hem of the kilt slipping back down to just brush his knees (now Elijah was beset by inexplicable knee-licking urges), and disappeared into the bedroom. He was back in less than a minute with a bundle of forest green in his hands.

He gave Elijah a long look, and then just handed it to him without speaking. Elijah looked at it (it had red and gold threads running through it, making differently sized squares out of the green), glanced at Billy (who was watching him with eyes that could accurately be described as 'smoldering') and he was suddenly (and ridiculously) shy.

"Don't watch," he said, and Billy's lips quirked for a moment (if he laughed, Elijah was going to hit him with his own kilt), but he turned his back obediently. Elijah was momentarily distracted by the sight of Billy's back, which was muscular and very defined, and for a guy that wasn't more than an inch taller than Elijah, he quite suddenly seemed very fucking _big._

Elijah tore his eyes from Billy's back (and his ass, which, while still concealed by the kilt, seemed no less interesting for all of that) and stripped down quickly. He was fairly confident that he was going to look ridiculous in comparison to Billy, but that hardly mattered. He didn't have to look at himself, and the _idea_ of wearing it, of them _both_ wearing kilts, had his hands trembling a little as he drew it up his legs and struggled with the fastening (which seemed to be some kind of hidden belt tucked up under the waist). It took him a little while to figure that out, but finally, he managed it.

He looked down at the kilt, saw where his erection was tenting it out, and was suddenly hyper aware of the feel of the material rubbing against his naked cock. "Oh, jeez," he breathed, and Billy took that as permission to turn around.

Billy's eyes widened, and then, almost faintly, he murmured: "Kilt kink." He sounded a little surprised. He stepped closer, and Elijah could feel Billy's eyes crawling on his skin. He felt weirdly, ridiculously naked.

"I think it looks better on you," he said, and he thought his voice sounded oddly strangled.

"Not likely," Billy refuted softly, and stepped close. He slid his fingers into the waist of Elijah's kilt and pulled slightly. The fabric slid against Elijah's cock, and he whimpered.

"Jeez," he said, and slid his hand across the fabric of Billy's kilt. He found Billy's cock and folded his hand around it, kilt and all, and Billy let out a half-growl and pushed. "Oh, jeez," he whimpered again, and all of the sudden he was being pressed up against a wall (where did that come from?) while Billy did his utter best to devour Elijah's mouth.

Elijah twisted his fist around the handful of Billy's cock and kilt that he was still holding, and Billy grabbed Elijah's hips again, but then adjusted his grip so that he was holding fistfuls of the kilt instead. He tugged at the kilt, tugged them until their hips were pressed tightly together ("Move your fucking hand," he commanded breathlessly, and Elijah obliged, moving his hands around to Billy's ass instead, feeling hard, tight muscle move and flex under his palms, feeling the smooth-rough material of the kilt under his fingers, and he felt a bit like he was going to combust or shatter), cocks lined up side by side, rubbing simultaneous against the heat of each other and the kilts. Elijah could hear himself whimpering, sweat was prickling along every inch of his body, and he was twisting heatedly against Billy. He could hear the whisk of their kilts rubbing together, and really, what kind of thing was that to make him feely woozily pre-orgasmic to the point where all other sound had become a sort of static-smothered white noise, strictly background.

Billy was jerking rhythmically at Elijah's kilt, fast but steady, _whimpertugpush,_ again and again, and Elijah was aware that they were rubbing themselves off against each other like teenagers in the back seat of a fucking Chrysler, but that seemed all right for now, it seemed to make sense (though he could also clearly imagine Billy flat on his back with his kilt flipped up around his belly, could clearly imagine himself sinking down onto Billy's cock with Billy's hands fisted around folds of Elijah's kilt, like they were now, jerking and guiding him) and he was barely conscious of it when Billy gasp-growled: "Fuck me, but you look good in a kilt, Lij, look, just _look_!" He turned his head in the direction in which Billy was looking (which was not at Elijah, but down the hall a ways) and saw the two of them reflected back at him, saw the two of them grinding and pushing and sweating, saw the kilts and Billy's hands fisted into the fabric of Elijah's kilt, saw how that pulled the material up to reveal Elijah's thigh, and he felt hot and breathless and shocked for some indefinite amount of time while he stared, just stared.

"Oh, fuck!" Elijah whispered, and felt climax pushpulling him, felt his thighs clenching with it, his whole body clenching with it, and he managed to say: "I'm, Billy, jesusfuck, Billy, I'm... " before words abandoned him completely in favor of other, less articulate sounds.

He could hear Billy, murmuring: "Yeah, fuck... Elijah... God...."

Then they were both just gasping, groaning, whining, Elijah was practically fucking sobbing, and the fact that he could feel Billy shuddering against him, feel Billy twisting with hard, sharp little jerks that pulled the fabric of the kilt joltingly along his cock, probably giving him fabric burns but it was so good, so good, he didn't give a fuck if he had to Neosporin his cock twice a day just to wear pants, he was coming and Billy was choking out the most amazing sounds and biting Elijah's neck.

It wasn't until the intensity of it had retreated, until he was actually able to hear his own breathing again, and Billy's, that he realized that they had both sunk to their knees and that Elijah could feel Billy's thigh against his balls.

"Oh, shite," Billy said dazedly, and looked at Elijah with soft, unfocused eyes.

"Uh huh," Elijah agreed, between panting breaths.

Neither of them said anything for a while. Elijah's breathing was almost normal again when Billy said, thoughtfully: "I've never shagged on my kitchen table."

Elijah looked at him, feeling a grin tugging at his lips.

Billy looked at the very large wet spot on the front of his kilt, then at the similar one on Elijah's. He looked at Elijah. "Wanna stay?" he asked. "Have kinky sex on my kitchen table?"

"Will it involve kilts?" Elijah asked, mock serious.

Billy appeared to consider this gravely. "It will in about an hour," he said. "When these get out of the wash."

Elijah grinned.


End file.
